


Reverie

by Amy



Category: Secret Avengers
Genre: Brainwashing, F/F, F/M, Memory Alteration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-02 08:42:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2806388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amy/pseuds/Amy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not just what you remember, it's why. (Post-Secret Avengers Vol 2)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rekall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rekall/gifts).



> The prompt noted that Natasha qualified as character at nominations but not at the review process. I love Rekall's idea of Bobbi/Nat, but If you feel having her appear as a character violates what you see as the spirit of Yuletide rules, just pretend the fic ended at the end of the first chapter.

They do go to the beach, in the end, because it's as anonymous as they can get, and right now it's more important to regroup than anything else. There's not much to do besides drinking and tanning and swapping stories, and it'll get boring soon, probably, but right now, Bobbi doesn't mind much at all.

With all the fake memories and erased memories, it seems to Bobbi like they should have at least three lives' worth of histories among them. Probably more. But it doesn't count, really, when the memories they have aren't much more than bits and pieces of shattered glass. You can make a mosaic out of that, sure, but you can't put it back together to make something functional ( _a microscope_ , she thinks, and then wonders why that's what came to mind). Not really.

"Reverie," Daisy says sometimes, and she laughs when nothing happens, but Bobbi and Bucky don't laugh with her, because all of them know it isn't really funny at all.

This is Bobbi's team now. It's maybe the worst choice she's ever made, but it's completely hers. She's been SHIELD and she's been AIM and she's, apparently, been Cult of Entropy. She's been brainwashed and she's had memories erased and she's been replaced by Skrulls and she's been married to Clint Barton. But they haven't broken her. They've just made her more resilient. Now that she's none of those things ( _that she remembers_ \- no, don't think of it like that), she can choose what to keep.

With nothing much else to do, they spend days on it, Daisy using her abilities to create patterns in the sand and Bucky picking at desserts with his hands (who _does_ that, Barnes, no wonder you're a secret agent, no one wants to be seen in public with you) and Bobbi just _listening_ as all of them compare notes, trying to figure out what's real and what's worth remembering. They can agree on Old Nick Fury's favorite cologne and New Nick Fury's favorite gun and Phil Coulson's annoying habits, and at least that's a baseline. But nearly everything else is dangerous territory. Even simple facts carry too much weight, when everyone has unsettled business that didn't end with their vanishing. Some are professional rivalries; others are... complicated.

They dance around the topic until Daisy, who has very little patience on a good day, says "Natasha."

For a moment there's that awful silence that comes when people well-trained at hiding emotions work to not show their world is falling apart, but deep within it Bobbi is grateful. It's the question she hadn't been able to bring herself to ask, and now she knows that it wasn't just in her head. To at least one other person in the world- two, now- it was real.

Daisy continues like she hadn't just made the very ground beneath them erupt- but then, that's what she always does. "You both loved her," she says. "Are you going to talk about it or not?"

There's not much to talk about, really. They can't compare memories, because they don't have them, for the most part, and the ones that they do have aren't the same for obvious reasons.

Bobbi is good at long, uncomfortable silences, but she knows Bucky is better, and she doesn't feel like waiting him out. "I don't even know if she remembers me," she says.

"I know she doesn't remember me," Bucky says. He doesn't say it to one-up her or to counter her point; it's simply how things are. Bobbi wasn't there, of course, but she's heard what happened, and they all talk about missions during down time. She's noticed the spaces Natasha doesn't realize exist in the stories she tells. But that's Natasha; she can read everyone but herself.

Bobbi thinks about her time in AIM, the way the memories were there and not-there all at once, knowing who she was despite evidence but not knowing how or why. She knows Bucky feels the same way; has heard Daisy describe it more times than she can count. Natasha should be part of their club here, sharing shards of recollections over mojitos and sunscreen. Even if Natasha weren't- who she is- she'd still belong here. But Bobbi's not foolish enough to lie to herself and pretend that isn't part of it either.

"They're never going to leave her head alone, are they?" Bobbi knows as she speaks that it's not really a question, and the way neither Daisy nor Bucky can quite look at her is proof of that. Of course they won't get out of Natasha's head. This is what they do. No matter how flexible morality is, it's always easier to say the magic word and make things even easier. The good guys, the bad guys- it doesn't matter. The people who think they matter will always see the ones who actually do as nothing but instruments for change.

"We should rescue her," Bobbi says. It's- well, it's ridiculous and it's brash and it's probably the same stupid part of her that decided she should dress up in a costume and fight crime. It's a terrible plan and it's the most she's felt like herself since she got off AIM island.

"She chose this," Bucky says. "She deserves not to have her mind played with any more than it already has been." He looks at her like he knows what she's going through, and it would be easier, Bobbi thinks, if he didn't. She doesn't want his pity, doesn't want his belief that the only thing to do in this situation is soldier on.

Because he doesn't understand, not really. Their history is similar, but it isn't the same. Bucky has disappeared, but he's never been replaced.

"Did she know what she was choosing?" Bobbi asks. "Did she give informed consent? Because I know I didn't."

She's cheating, using Daisy's biggest hang-up about SHIELD and the Secret Avengers program. She knows she's cheating. She doesn't really care.

"We help in other ways," Bucky says. "Nick gave us the tools." He sounds like he's trying to convince himself. He sounds like he's failing.

"Does she want to be rescued, Bobbi?" asks Daisy, and god, she's being gentle, which is almost worse than Bucky doing it. Bobbi isn't fragile. It's not a luxury she's ever been afforded.

The sand feels like it's chafing, now, and the sun feels too hot on her skin, and with each passing second she feels more like Mockingbird than ever. "Maybe not," Bobbi says. "But I'm going to find out."

"You know that's a terrible plan," Bucky says.

"Yeah," Bobbi agrees. "But it's mine."


	2. Chapter 2

Natasha is too good to just be found, and Bobbi is aware that Natasha may or may not want to see her, may or may not even remember why. So she's careful in her investigation, aware of lines she might otherwise have crossed without a thought; just because she disagrees with Daisy and Bucky's decision not to look doesn't mean she doesn't understand the logic behind it.

So she makes up rules and follows them, for once, and in the downtime she becomes the street-level superhero she hadn't realized she could be. Bobbi's no Power Man or Daredevil, but the man getting robbed in an alley doesn't care about that. He's just happy to have his wallet back, and grateful to _her_ , stumbling over his words in telling her how much it means to him. Bobbi will always love the layers upon layers of being a spy, of each level leading to the next, but there's something rewarding about a simple act leading to a simple conclusion. She does good things, and good things happen because of them. It doesn't change anything, but the way it leaves no room for doubt is affirming: _I am a hero. I help people. I am Mockingbird_.

She sleeps well at night, and although she doesn't remember all the things she's lost, she finds herself less and less likely to remember the things she'd like to forget as well.

In the end, she doesn't exactly find Natasha. She finds a cat, scraggly and cranky and then altogether too pleased with himself when he delivers Bobbi right to Natasha's doorstep.

She hadn't even been looking for Natasha, at the time, but heroes are heroes, and a pitifully-mewing and collarless but well-fed and unafraid cat was clearly one who had accidentally gotten away from his humans and needed to be returned. And the cat clearly knew the neighborhood, nosing at Bobbi affectionately except when she took a wrong turn. The cat was like a purring GPS, right up to the door, and Bobbi had prepared herself for a tearful feline-and-human reunion. Instead, she finds herself looking straight at Natasha Romanov.

There's the moment of fear, of course, that Natasha won't remember her at all, or Natasha won't remember the right aspects of her (Bucky's stories ring in her head, how Natasha knew the Winter Soldier's reputation but not her own relationship to him, and there's the sharp cold in her stomach of what that could mean for her), but there's a nearly imperceptible softening of Natasha's features and Bobbi knows she wasn't wrong.

Natasha looks at the self-satisfied ball of fur in Bobbi's arms. "Liho," she says, shaking her head. "I can't take you anywhere."

"You got a cat?"

"No," Natasha says, but the cat jumps into her arms like he belongs there, and Bobbi can't miss the fine dark hairs that were already on her sweater.

"A cat got you," Bobbi surmises, and Natasha's smile would seem dangerous if it weren't so fond.

"Liho," Natasha says, "is an unholy terror. Aren't you?"

The cat purrs and daintily licks a paw. This cat is an asshole. It's the most perfect match of pet and owner Bobbi's ever seen, and she one watched Clint and Lucky fight over a slice of pizza.

"Always bringing dead mice to your doorstep?" Bobbi guesses.

Natasha makes eye contact, a long study that is not in the least subtle and is as unsettling as it is seductive. "Among other things," she says at last. "Liho always brings me what he thinks I need."

"Is he usually right?"

"Not always. I'm fine at hunting on my own. We've had several talks about innocent pigeons, haven't we?" At the cat's low guttural growl, Natasha smiles. "Sam came over with some complaints. But in general, Liho's pretty good at guessing what would make me happy."

Neither Natasha nor Bobbi is the kind to say 'I missed you.' There isn't going to be any 'I'm really glad you're still alive and not in AIM custody' or 'It's pretty great that you aren't brainwashed out of remembering me' conversation, and neither of them would want one anyway. This is the closest to that they're going to get, and Bobbi allows herself a moment to be grateful that this asshole cat decided she's good enough for his human.

"You should come in," Natasha says. "If you're not busy. I have coffee, tea-"

"Tea would be great," Bobbi says, and Natasha slips to the side, allowing her in before bolting the door behind her. It's just a simple deadbolt, the kind on any New York City apartment, but Bobbi knows better than to believe that; Natasha's apartment is a fortress perfectly designed to look not terribly well-protected. The second the door is locked, Liho jumps out of Natasha's arms, turns around to glare at both of them like he was never interested in their conversation to begin with, and stalks off out of sight.

And then it's just them again.

The kettle was already on, apparently, and Bobbi's barely had a chance to voice her preference for earl grey before the mug is in her hands. She takes a long sip, mostly to save herself from having to be the first to speak. She knows better than to try to wait out Natasha, but there's no sense in getting ahead of herself if Natasha's ready to make the first move. She doesn't have to be the hero in every situation.

She's glad she listened to her instincts when Natasha begins to speak. "They told us you were okay," Natasha says. "I'm glad they weren't lying."

"You didn't look for me," Bobbi observes. Not accusingly. Just stating.

"I didn't know if you'd want me to," Natasha says. She doesn't say it like an apology, and that makes her feel more like Natasha than the cat and the tea put together. It's just matter-of-fact, truth or as much truth as Natasha knows it. Bobbi isn't surprised in the least; Natasha is an awful lot like Bucky, sometimes.

"I'm glad I found you, then," Bobbi says.

"I'm not sorry for doing my job," Natasha says, and on anyone else it would be a way to build barriers, but from Natasha it seems more like knocking them down.

"I didn't come here looking for apologies," Bobbi says. From Maria, yes. But Natasha's just as much a victim as she was, even if she'd never see it like that.

Natasha's smile is tight. "You came for a cat."

"I came for you."

In the silence, Bobbi focuses on the tea, its taste on her tongue and the warmth of it as she swallows, so she doesn't have to think too much about the millions of tiny practiced ways Natasha is failing to react. And she can almost convince herself it doesn't hurt too much, when suddenly her mug is in pieces on the floor and hands are in her hair and her lap is full of Natasha.

It's unexpected in all the ways she should expect from Natasha but somehow, magically, still doesn't. As Natasha kisses trails down her neck, Bobbi is overwhelmed not with lust or even affection, but an overwhelming calm. This is how things should be. This is how things are. And nothing (not even _reverie_ ) can change that.

Natasha's barely even flushed, because she's Natasha, but the look in her eyes tells Bobbi she's just as pleased. "You know," Natasha says, "I do have a bedroom."

The words are barely out before the indignant yowl permeates every inch of the apartment, and there are moods it could break but somehow that just deepens this one, leaving both of them laughing so hard Bobbi can barely breathe. "Or we could just stay on the couch," Bobbi manages.

"Couch is good," Natasha agrees with a laugh, and pulls Bobbi over for another kiss.

From the other room, Liho voices his approval. But Bobbi's so absorbed in Natasha, it barely even registers.


End file.
